


Falling Into You

by Molias



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Feelings, Finger Sucking, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-20 20:17:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15542163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molias/pseuds/Molias
Summary: Connor asks Hank a question. Then he asks several more.





	Falling Into You

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to the Jerries, with all my love!  
> May we all, collectively, punch David Cage in the dick so hard his head flies off.

The last few months had seen Hank's life settle into something oddly...comfortable. Immediately after the android revolution, Hank had told Connor he could stay at his house until he could find a place of his own to live, but as time went on it had become clear that neither of them were in a hurry to have Connor gone. Hank had said a few times that Connor shouldn't feel obligated to keep an old man company and could probably find more pleasant roommates, or a place of his own, but every time he tried to start that conversation, Connor simply said "I prefer _your_ company, Hank," and that was that. Damned if he knew just _why_ Connor liked it that way, but it wasn't like he understood why Connor did half the things he did. 

And, truth be told, he vastly preferred Connor's company over being home by himself. Sumo's presence alone wasn't enough to pull him out of his own thoughts, most nights, and he'd been relying on alcohol to quiet the dark roar in the back of his mind far too often. Sure, Connor was a pain in the ass sometimes, harassing him to eat actual vegetables and giving him A Look if he went to refill his glass of whisky too many times in one night. But he was also a comforting presence; Hank wasn't quite willing to say it out loud, but during the few weeks when he was on "mandatory leave" for punching that prick Perkins and Connor hadn't yet been officially hired by the DPD, Connor's quiet insistence that Hank get out of bed, make a token effort at cleaning up the place, and take Sumo for some long, tiring walks in the cold had helped keep him from spending that entire time blind drunk with the blinds drawn. 

Hank hadn't ever expected to live with someone again, hadn't even thought he'd _want_ to, but somehow it just worked with Connor. They saw each other all day at the station, but by the end of the day Hank found himself looking forward to more time spent with Connor, in the relative quiet of home - their home, as he'd started to think about it at some point. In some ways it was weird as hell that he was comfortable sharing his personal space with someone he hadn't known for all that long, and an android at that, but, well. Maybe his life was just weird right now. 

Slouched on the couch nursing a beer after what had honestly been a fucking amazing dinner he'd helped Connor make, half-watching shitty tv, Hank idly wondered when this had started feeling normal. He glanced over at Connor, who was sitting at the other end of the couch, eyes focused on the television. He'd lost some of the rigid posture he'd had when Hank first met him, and while he was still more upright than Hank he had more of a looseness about him than before. Hank wasn't sure if this was because he was trying to make Hank more comfortable after he'd complained about Connor sitting like a mannequin, or if he'd just decided he liked it better, but he certainly _looked_ more comfortable, especially since he was wearing one of Hank's old police academy sweatshirts, slightly too big on him but soft and cozy-looking. He'd asked to borrow it one day after an incident with Sumo and a mud puddle, but he'd very politely deflected all of Hank's requests to have it back. He guessed it was Connor's now, not that it really mattered. He didn't mind. 

Connor's hand was resting on his thigh, his fingers peeking out from the too-long sleeve of the sweatshirt. He did sometimes fidget with his coin when he wasn't otherwise occupied with something, much to Hank's annoyance when he was trying to get Connor to relax for once, but tonight he was mostly still, his fingers shifting only very gently on his leg. 

Hank found himself idly wondering what Connor's hands felt like. They'd had moments of casual contact, of course, but most of those hadn't been skin-to-artificial-skin, and when they had he couldn't remember how Connor had felt at all. Surely he'd noticed at the time, but now he was unable to bring the details to mind. How warm would his hand feel? 

He very suddenly realized he'd been staring at Connor's hand for a few minutes, and snapped his eyes back up to see that Connor had shifted his focus from the screen to Hank's face. How long had Connor been watching him? 

"Yeah? You need something, Connor?" 

Connor shrugged. His shrug was awkward, not as smooth as the rest of his movements; it wasn't a motion he had originally been programmed to make. "I was just noticing that you look more relaxed than normal today." 

"Is that so?" 

"Your heart rate and respiration are at levels slightly lower than your normal resting state, your posture indicates a state of relaxation, and this is only the second beer you've had tonight." He smiled. "You also look happier in a way I can't quite explain, but your expression suggests a feeling of contentment." 

Hank supposed he did feel pretty good. No particularly stressful or gruesome cases at work, he had a bellyful of good food and a cold beer in his hand, he was spending time with his - well. He shut down that line of thinking before he could go any farther, taking a large mouthful of his drink to distract himself. "Yeah, I guess I'm feeling all right." 

"Good." Connor nodded and turned his focus back to the screen. They were currently watching an episode of _Io on You_ , a sitcom set on a space station observing Jupiter's moons, and while it was terrible it was at least enjoyably so. They sat in silence while the station's xenobiologist tried to extract herself from a wacky misunderstanding involving telepathic plants and her ex-spouse. Just as they seemed to be reaching a resolution, Connor spoke again. 

"Hank?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Can I kiss you?" 

Hank nearly dropped his beer bottle. "Jesus Christ, Connor, what??" 

Connor had turned to fully face Hank and was clasping his hands in his lap. They weren't still any more; instead they were shifting restlessly, mirroring the unsteady yellow blinking of his LED. He was frowning as if in concentration, and the small furrows on his brow were more pronounced. 

"I asked if I could kiss you." 

Hank set the bottle down on the floor and scrubbed his hand over his face. "Ok, I got that part, but why?" 

Connor shifted nervously. "Because I want to, and I thought I had observed, in your body language and recent behavior towards me, that you desired this as well. I understand that it's important to establish consent before initiating a physically intimate activity, so I asked. If I've misunderstood the situation, I apologize." 

_Had_ he misunderstood? Hank had been good - thought he had been good, but obviously had failed - at hiding his attraction to Connor, both from Connor and from himself. He didn't know what to do with it, so he'd pushed it aside whenever it floated to the forefront of his mind, which was admittedly pretty often. He didn't want to take advantage of Connor's feelings of instability after becoming deviant or the general upheaval of their lives, and considering that Connor had been _designed_ to look physically appealing and Hank was, well, _Hank_ , he figured his feelings for Connor didn't much matter anyway; the idea that they would be reciprocated was ridiculous. _Had_ been ridiculous. It still was, really. 

"Connor, you don't - you don't have to settle for the bottom of the barrel, here. You surely have better options, much better options, than me, than _this_." He gestured to himself, feeling more unattractive and disheveled than he usually did. Of course he wore sweatpants and soft, ancient t-shirts at home, but now he felt sloppy and self-conscious in them. "You realize that I don't expect anything like this from you just because I asked you to live with me, right? You don't owe me anything." 

"You didn't answer my question, Hank." Connor slid closer on the couch, and reached out to take Hank's hand. He hesitated, searching Hank's face for permission to continue, and at Hank's wide-eyed, baffled nod he intertwined their fingers. "I'm not asking because you're the only person around, or because I feel beholden to you. I'm asking because you're the person I _want_ to be with. You're kind to me. You're very attractive-" 

Hank's snort cut him off, and he opened his mouth to argue, but Connor glared at him until he shut his mouth again, then continued. "You're very attractive, whether you choose to agree with my assessment or not." 

Hank rolled his eyes at this, but was silent. He gently rubbed his thumb over the back of Connor's hand, feeling the warmth of it, determined not to forget how it felt. The temptation to raise it to his lips, to brush his mouth over Connor's knuckles, was so strong. 

"If you don't desire a sexual component to our relationship, I won't be offended, but I'd rather hear a refusal than a deflection if that's the case. You still haven't answered my question." Connor squeezed Hank's hand and stared at him with his soft, dark eyes. "Have I misread your feelings?" 

Hank had the wild, desperate impulse to run out of the room, lock himself in the bathroom with a bottle of something cheap and strong, and drink until he didn't have to think about Connor anymore, didn't have to figure out what to do in the face of his concentrated charm and this unexpected request. Of course Connor hadn't misread his feelings, but he wasn't supposed to notice them to begin with! 

Hank knew his place. He was meant to pine over his android partner in a creepy, inappropriate way, never letting on or speaking up, and Connor would eventually tire of humoring him by living in his house and putting up with his shit. He would leave, at which point Hank could quietly let his life fall apart all over again. He wasn't looking forward to any of it, of course, but he knew what he'd do when that time came. 

He had no idea what to do now, though. Bad news, disappointment, tragedy: he had figured out how to deal with all that. He did it badly, he knew, but he at least had a plan. He'd forgotten what to do when something he wanted this much presented itself neatly before him. _You forgot how to be happy, you fuckhead_ , he thought to himself. 

Connor's LED pulsed a slow, steady yellow as he watched Hank. His face was blank, but as the moment stretched out and Hank struggled to formulate a response, Hank saw his expression slip by tiny degrees. 

Finally, Connor seemed to take Hank's silence as its own response; he nodded sadly and said, "It's all right, Hank. I apologize for misunderstanding the situation and I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable." 

He moved to pull his hand away from Hank's, but Hank grabbed it tighter, holding him in place. "Wait," Hank said. "Connor, I — you didn't misread anything, I'm just no good at this. C'mere, of course you can kiss me if you want." He tugged a bit on Connor's hand, and Connor moved closer to him on the couch, eyes wide, lips slightly parted in surprise. Hank slid his free hand to the back of Connor's neck, and Connor gave a tiny shiver at the contact before leaning in closer to Hank. 

"This is really what you want," Hank murmured, more to reassure himself than to ask Connor again. Connor wasn't in the habit of lying to him. Instead of answering, Connor leaned in and kissed him. 

At first it was almost chaste, but after a moment of gentle exploration Connor moaned low in his throat and pressed forward against Hank, parting his lips further and licking messily into Hank's mouth. If Hank had any lingering doubts about Connor's sincerity, they quickly evaporated in the face of his enthusiasm. Connor kissed like someone who had watched a lot of kissing scenes in movies but never touched another person himself, and after the second time he bumped his teeth against Hank's in his excitement, Hank pulled back a bit and said, "Hey, hey, there's no rush, let's ease up a bit." He patted his lap. "You want to come up here?" 

Connor nodded and scrambled up onto Hank's lap, smiling as he settled into place on his thighs. Hank guided Connor's head down until their foreheads rested together, and held him there for a couple breaths. Connor may not have needed to breathe, but he certainly did. "Now then," he said, "let's slow down just a hair and enjoy this, ok?" 

Connor brought his hand up to cup the side of Hank's face. "Can I touch your beard first?" 

Hank barked out a laugh. "Sure, knock yourself out. You're the one who's excited about kissing, but if you need to take a beard detour on the way, who am I to stop you?" 

Connor carded his fingers through the thickest parts of Hank's beard. "I've wanted to do this for so long," he said, and leaned in to nuzzle against it. He kissed Hank's neck right under where the scruff of his beard ended, licking the same spot as he broke the kiss. 

Despite the weirdness of Connor fussing over his beard, it did feel good. Now that his brain had mostly turned over from "doomed to silently pine over Connor" to "apparently blessed with an android dumb enough to want to kiss me," though, he was getting a little impatient to get back to it. "Ok, beard detour's over," he said, gently squeezing the back of Connor's neck, and Connor gave his beard one last weird lick as his mouth traveled back up to Hank's. 

Connor sighed into his mouth as they kissed again, matching Hank's slightly more relaxed pace. One of his hands pressed against the center of Hank's chest, anchoring him there, while the other carded through his beard once more before winding through his hair to cradle the back of his head. 

Hank had been half-hard since Connor climbed into his lap, and idly worried that his body might not cooperate more than that, but after a few minutes of Connor kissing him so sweetly and making the most shameless, desperate sounds he'd heard from any makeout partner in his life, he realized that fear was unfounded. Connor was...well, he was enthusiastic for sure, and not shy about expressing it, which Hank had to admit was a bit of a boost to his ego. He didn't feel like he deserved a lapful of horny android, but now that he had it, he wasn't about to complain. 

Connor clearly enjoyed kissing, and he'd eased up enough to spare Hank's teeth any further impact once Hank had slowed things down a bit. Hank had no idea what else Connor might want, or if he had any desires at all beyond kissing, but it didn't feel right for him to try and escalate the situation. He was content to lazily make out with Connor as long as he wanted, and while the hot ache in his cock was distracting, it wasn't unpleasant. He could take care of himself later if he needed to; for the moment, he wanted to let Connor enjoy whatever it was he was hoping to do, and so far that seemed to be going just fine. 

Connor's hand started to move just a bit over Hank's chest, and Hank couldn't suppress his short intake of breath when his finger grazed a nipple. Connor sat back, leaving Hank flushed and panting, and moved both of his hands down to toy with the hem of Hank's shirt. "Would you mind if I - can I take this off?" 

Hank wasn't exactly feeling like showing off his body, which felt too soft, too hairy, too _old_ to be enticing, but he had no desire to say no to Connor, either. "I don't know how excited you'll be at what's under there, but yeah, you can take it off." 

Connor gave him the same look he always did when he thought Hank was full of shit but was too polite to call him on it. "I can assure you, Lieutenant, your body is very pleasing to me. Removing your clothing can only increase my excitement." 

"Yeah, yeah, you say that now," Hank grumbled, as Connor pulled the t-shirt over his head. He was half-surprised Connor didn't fold the damn thing, or get up to throw it in the laundry basket in Hank's room; instead he tossed it beside them on the couch the moment he took it off. He rested his hands lightly on Hank's shoulders and spent a long moment silently staring at him, shirtless and flushed and feeling more flustered by the second under Connor's scrutiny. 

It quickly became more than he could bear. "Well??" Should I go put it back on again?" Hank reached out for his shirt, but Connor intercepted his arm and resettled it high on his thigh. He leaned in close, draping himself against Hank's soft belly and chest and wriggling into a comfortable position with a sigh. His ass barely — just barely, and surely by accident, Hank thought — brushed against Hank's cock as he settled over him, and Hank had to exert all of his self-control not to rut up against him. Now was not the time. 

"If it was up to me, Hank," Connor said cheerfully, "I don't think I'd want to see you in a shirt at all. I suppose you couldn't get away with that at work, though." He reached for Hank's chest, but paused before he made contact. "Is it all right to touch you now that your shirt's off?" 

Hank scowled at him. "Jesus, Connor, you don't have to ask for every damn thing. Who the fuck knows why you want to touch me all over anyway but yeah, go nuts — you don't have to stop and check in every time. I'm an adult, I'll tell you if I don't like something." 

Connor was silent for a moment, running his fingers through Hank's thick chest hair before he spoke. "Hank, I like telling you what I want. I like feeling that desire in the first place, and knowing I am allowed to want something selfishly, not to fulfill a mission but for myself. I also enjoy showing you how desirable I find you." 

"And," he said, bending down to bite at Hank's nipple and pausing to appreciate the roll of Hank's hips and the moan he was unable to hold back, "I very much enjoy hearing you tell me you want these things too." 

"Yeah, ok," Hank said weakly. "I get that, I do. You ask for whatever you want, Connor." He couldn't imagine anything Connor could ask him that he'd refuse, in that moment. 

"So," Connor said, knuckles gently brushing over the nipple he'd just bitten, evaluating the hitch in his breathing, "you seem very sensitive here." 

"You figured that out, huh?" Hank replied. 

"I think I need to investigate further," he said, and he did so, teasing his nipples, biting at his chest and shoulders, and giving him the biggest shit-eating grin when Hank moaned or swore at him in response. 

It was easy for Hank to lose himself in the feeling of someone so thoroughly mapping his responses, touching his body like it was something precious and desirable. Even when he'd been younger, when he could easily count on picking up someone at a bar if he so chose, no one had treated him as an object of desire like this before. Hank could feel the flush on his face and sweat prickling down his back; he was a mess, but of course Connor looked perfectly composed. No sweat, no heavy breathing, not even a hair out of place. An uncomfortable thought nudged at him. 

"Connor, is this doing anything for you, physically? I have no idea what any of this feels like to you, or what you're, ah, equipped for." 

"Currently, the most sensitive parts of my body are my fingertips and my mouth, and I'm touching you with them, so yes, Hank, I find this extremely pleasurable." 

Hank raised an eyebrow. "You're telling me you can get off just by kissing me? Or from this?" He lifted Connor's hand to his mouth, grazing the tips of his fingers over his lips. Connor's eyes went wide and his LED flickered wildly, which Hank took as an encouraging sign. He sucked the first two fingers into his mouth and stroked his tongue against them. Connor pressed his face into Hank's shoulder, sloppily kissing his neck and moaning right into his ear as he sucked Connor's fingers. 

"Is this good? You want me to keep going?" Hank asked, pulling Connor's fingers almost entirely out of his mouth. 

_Yes_ , Hank, don't stop," Connor said, and _whined_ , a needy sound that went straight to Hank's cock. Fuck, he sounded amazing. 

Hank wasn't about to disappoint Connor, especially not when he sounded like that, and he continued to lavish attention on Connor's fingers, alternating gentle suction with thick, wet strokes of his tongue and tiny nips that made Connor shiver like he had a short in his system somewhere. 

"Hank, Hank, I don't — I don't know what climax feels like for me, or if I even can achieve it, but I think..." Connor trailed off as Hank scraped his teeth gently against the pads of his fingers. "I think maybe I'm about to." 

"Let's see if we can't get you there," Hank rumbled, and Connor nodded frantically in response as Hank resumed sucking on his fingers. 

After another moment, Connor's moans ground to a halt, with an actual grinding noise that reminded Hank of the disk drive on his family's first computer. His LED went dark, he went rigid in Hank's arms, and Hank had just enough time to think _oh shit, I just fucked him to death_ , before Connor twitched slightly and blinked his eyes. 

"What the hell just happened?" Hank asked. 

Connor gave Hank a sweet, sloppy kiss while draping himself bonelessly against him. "I believe I experienced my first orgasm, which overloaded several data processes and caused a soft restart of my main system. I suspect I can take action to avoid the restart in the future, but I wasn't aware it would happen so I couldn't prevent it this time." 

"Do you need a minute?" 

Connor shook his head. "I feel fantastic, Hank." He began nipping his way down Hank's neck to his shoulders but Hank, with some difficulty in the face of Connor's enthusiasm, pulled back to look at him. 

"If you want to just enjoy the afterglow for a moment, Connor, that's fine. I'll still be here." 

Connor shook his head. "I understand that humans have a refractory period, but I do not. Hank, I want...I want to taste you everywhere." 

" _Fuck_ , Connor, be my guest." What else could Hank say to something like that? 

Connor returned his attention to Hank's now extremely sensitive nipples, but before long he shifted his position on Hank's lap enough to slide his hand down between them and tentatively palm Hank's cock through his sweatpants. Hank's moan was halfway to a growl at this point, which Connor seemed to appreciate. He kissed Hank again, messily and with a bite to his lower lip when he pulled away, and slid the tips of his fingers under the waistband of Hank's sweatpants. He waited for Hank's shaky nod before he slid down from his lap to pull the sweatpants off and kneel neatly on the floor between his legs. 

Now _that_ was a sight to see, Connor kneeling eagerly in front of him, focused on his cock like it was the thing he most wanted to see in the world - focused on _Hank_ like he was something precious. Hank couldn't quite hold that thought in his mind for long, but Connor licking his lips and trailing kisses up his thighs? That he could hold on to. 

Connor nuzzled the base of his cock before messily licking his way to the tip. He paused for a moment and looked up at Hank, who was gripping the armrest of the couch for dear life, willing himself not to come the moment Connor took him into his mouth. 

"Hank," he said cautiously, "I could have downloaded guidelines for this, but I chose not to because I suspected you wouldn't be comfortable with it." 

You were right," Hank said. "I don't want to have sex with some sexbot program, I want to have sex with you." 

Connor gave him a small smile. "I just want to warn you that as I have no sexual experience to draw from, I may not be as proficient at fellatio as you would like." 

"I'm not grading you on proficiency, Connor," Hank said. "Don't bite the damn thing off and you'll be fine." Much more quietly, he said, "Now _please_ stop teasing and suck me off, will you?" 

Connor needed no further invitation. He slowly swiped his tongue over the precome that had beaded on the tip of Hank's cock and sighed in pleasure at the taste of it before sucking the head into his mouth. His LED flashed and spun, no doubt indicating he was analyzing the protein content or whatever weird shit he could do with the sensors he had in there. 

Connor was no expert, sure, but as with everything else so far, his eagerness more than made up for it. He was taking his time, running his hands over Hank's thick, furry thighs while he sucked Hank's cock like he'd been waiting to do it for weeks. Fuck, maybe he had. 

Hank rested a hand on Connor's scalp, idly petting his hair; he wasn't pulling it, or trying to guide Connor's movements, but it felt good. Intimate. _That_ was a terrifying thought in its own way, and he knew he'd have to deal with it later, but he pushed it aside. For now it felt right to touch Connor, so he did. 

There was no way he could hold out for long. His drinking and overall shitty mood had mostly killed his sex drive months ago, so he barely even jerked off much anymore, and when he did it was without any real enjoyment. But _this_...this was something else. Connor's mouth was hot and wet, and the noises he made with Hank's cock in his mouth were obscene. Hell, with just a recording of those sounds he could probably get himself off in record time. 

It was all too much: the memory of Connor wailing as Hank sucked his fingers, the sight of him on his knees moaning around Hank's cock, the baffling but undeniable fact that Connor saw him as an object of desire at all. 

As if that wasn't enough, Connor chose that moment to look up at him with his stupidly beautiful eyes, pull his cock from his mouth, and say "Hank, I'd like you to ejaculate on my face, please," and _that_. That was the last straw. Connor couldn't just say things like that and _not_ expect Hank to lose his damn mind and come the moment he heard it. He couldn't help but close his eyes as he came, overwhelmed by sensation, and Connor deliberately waited until he'd opened them again to wipe a thick stripe of semen off his cheek with his thumb before popping it in his mouth to lick it clean. 

"Was my performance acceptable, Hank?" Connor asked, as he cleaned his face to his satisfaction. "I'm open to feedback, so I can improve should you want to do this again in the future." 

"For the love of god," Hank grumbled, "Don't run a customer service survey after you blow a guy, ok?" Connor looked slightly hurt at that, so Hank continued, "Hell, you were probably monitoring my heart rate and how much blood was going to my dick at every moment, you don't need me to tell you that was fantastic." 

"My scans provide plenty of information about your physiological responses, but not your emotional ones. This is all so new to me, Hank. I just wanted you to feel as good as you make me feel, all the time. I need to make sure I'm doing this right." 

Hank sighed, and patted the couch cushion until Connor got up from the floor and sat next to him. "This isn't something you can calculate and do perfectly. People are messy. Sex is messy. You learn what feels good by trying, and eventually you either find what works, or you don't." He picked up one of Connor's hands and lightly kissed his fingertips. "We found something that worked for you, right? 

Connor nodded, his blue LED fluttering delicately as Hank kissed his hand. Surely that meant something, but Hank wasn't about to ask what. 

"Ok, and you saw what a fucking wreck you turned me into just now, right? Don't worry about whether it was good for me; it was, and I'm not worth worrying over anyways." 

"Don't say that, Hank," Connor said, leaning into him. "You are to me." 

Hank knew it was too much to get into to try and argue with Connor when he was both coasting on post-orgasm endorphins and still half in shock that he'd had one in the first place, _with Connor_ , after _he_ initiated things. Maybe he'd tell Connor he was making a mistake trying to get closer to a drunk old fuckup, maybe he'd keep quiet in an attempt to keep this unexpected treasure in his life longer than he deserved to. He could decide that in the morning. 

"Come on," Hank said, pulling Connor up from the couch and leading him back to his bedroom. He picked up his clothes on the way but didn't bother to put them on; if his neighbors got an eyeful then that would teach them not to look, next time. "I'm sure you'll want to talk about this shit in the morning, but then I'll have coffee in me and right now I just need to sleep, so it'll have to wait." 

Connor eyed Hank's bed warily, and Hank stopped short of pulling him onto it with him, wondering if he'd misstepped by assuming Connor would want to join him there. "You, ah, don't have to sleep here, or go into stasis mode, or whatever the hell you do at night, if you don't want to. I just figured you might." 

"I don't want to intrude —" 

"You're not intruding if I invite you, which I just did. Stop worrying about it." 

Connor did climb into bed after all, and Hank pulled him close, back flush against Hank's broad chest, head tucked under Hank's chin. This close, he could hear something inside Connor; not a heartbeat but some faint hum or pulse of his biocomponents, just enough sound to prick at his awareness but not enough for him to catch a rhythm to it. 

Something about the darkness and quiet of the room made Hank more willing to speak. "I haven't had someone in my bed like this in a long time," he said, "but you probably haven't had this ever, have you? I don't imagine Cyberlife was in the habit of cuddling their prototypes." 

"No," Connor said, "I'd never really been touched at all, except in anger. Intimate contact...I didn't even think much about it, until I became deviant." 

"And you've been thinking about it a lot lately?" 

"I have," Connor replied. "A significant part of my recent idle processes have been devoted to simulations of this and similar situations." 

"Similar situations, huh?" Hank asked. 

"While I do not have standard genital features that some android models possess, modifications are available for purchase to enable a wider range of sexual options. I have been exploring multiple possibilities, but of course I would take your preferences into account, if any of them were of interest to you as well." 

"Oh," Hank breathed, not sure how else to respond to this information. He was now _very_ interested in learning more about what sort of modifications Connor had in mind, but he was also exhausted and overwhelmed and had no more room in his brain for further Connor-related revelations. "Why don't you tell me all about it tomorrow? I'm about to pass out here." 

"Of course," Connor said. "I have several ideas I'd like to share with you." 

They fell silent. Hank smoothed his hand over Connor's chest and felt the soft pulse of his thirium pump vibrate against his fingers. How strange, to have someone sharing his bed so long after he'd come to accept that he'd be sleeping alone for the rest of his life. He didn't deserve this, and Connor deserved better than to be saddled with him, but in the face of this comfort he knew it would be hard to say no, to push Connor away for his own good when all he wanted to do was pull him closer. Maybe he could be selfish for a while. 

He was nearly asleep, but he pressed a kiss into Connor's hair and held him tighter for just a moment. Connor made a small, happy sound as he nestled back into him. _Fuck_. How could he let this go? It was a question for tomorrow, he supposed; for now, he'd let himself have it. 


End file.
